Follow You Into Fire
by TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: Sherlock and John have been on the case to find out what happened to Mr Johnson's family; they were all locked in a room, the windows were sealed, doors were locked, and it blew up. Sherlock goes to investigate as Mr Johnson fears that it will happen to him too, but Sherlock is a bit too slow...


_**This is just a little thing I made. I was just listening to Say Something (I'm Giving Up On You) and it made me think of something like this. I might make a whole story on it if you want. Please leave a review :)**_

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John ran there as quickly as he could. Millions of thoughts ran through his head, and not pleasant ones. He didn't know if he would get there in time. He didn't know what was going to happen. He didn't know if Sherlock would get out in time. As he ran, he questioned everything and thought about all of the possibilities. They drove him insane, prancing around in his head. Around and around, making him run faster until he could hardly breathe. He was relieved when he managed to reach the house and nothing had occurred there. Well, so he could tell.

He approached the house quickly and tried to open the door. It was locked. He panicked and continued to try. He shouted to Sherlock and slammed himself against the door to see if he could get it open using force. "John?!" He could hear Sherlock shouting from inside, so he replied.

"Sherlock?!" He screamed, still bashing the door. "Sherlock, open the door!" Sherlock went towards the door. He shouted to John.

"It's locked!"

"What?!"

"It's locked! I can't get it open!" Sherlock had also been trying to open it now and began to shout.

"But it's going to blow!" Sherlock knew this. He didn't think he'd be stuck like this though. He'd assumed he'd be out in time; he'd have solved it before anybody even mentioned the building blowing up. "Sherlock!" John continued to smash the door with all of the strength he had inside of him, however, Sherlock had stopped. He could smell the gas coming from the other room. The windows had been sealed; the circumstances were the same as those of the deaths of Mr Johnson's family, the case he'd been working on when he arrived at the house. Sherlock sighed and leaned his back against the door. He slowly dropped himself, he brought his knees to his chest, rested his arms on the top of them with his hands waving down in front of them, and he rested his head down. John stopped bashing the door. He called to Sherlock.

"Sherlock?!" There was no response. "Sherlock?" John went quieter.

"Stop, John!" Sherlock finally shouted. John's head perked up.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Just stop. You won't get in. I'm not getting out. The windows are sealed. The door is locked and will not open with any amount of force you shove onto it."

"But, Sherlock-"

"Just stop! It won't work." Sherlock and John both sighed simultaneously. Then, John rested his back against the door and slid down. He lay his legs out in front of him and dropped his head. He didn't think this was going to happen; this shouldn't be the end. He realised there was nothing he could do. He had called Lestrade, but it didn't seem he was getting there in any hurry. He had tried to open the door, but it was no use. He was powerless. Sherlock felt exactly the same. As they both sat back to back, separated by a door, they began to see how stuck they really were. The room Sherlock was in was slowly getting warmer and warmer and was eventually going to destroy every bit of life in there. And John was outside, cold, free. That's what upset him the most; he and Sherlock were a team. They were two best friends. The consulting detective and the doctor. The two of them against the rest of the world. However, now Sherlock was sat alone in a room which was going to be destroyed in a matter of minutes, and John could walk away at any moment. It wasn't right, he thought. He should be in there with his best friend.

John sighed and leaned his head back onto the door, as did Sherlock. John began to tear up. He didn't know what he could do to stop this. Every time something bad was happening they could always stop it; they always landed on their feet. However, things had changed and this wasn't a situation that could just be fixed with a click of their fingers. There was nothing to be done. "Afghanistan or Iraq." John shouted loud enough for Sherlock to hear. His voice trembled as he shouted because he knew he'd given up. He was finished, as was Sherlock and now all they could do was reminisce. Sherlock smiled a little. "The first thing you ever said to me. Normal people just say hello." he grinned. Sherlock cleared his throat, fighting back tears.

"I'm not a normal person, though, am I?"

"I guess neither of us are." they both smiled mournfully. Reminiscing the days that were. Imagining the days that could now never be.

They sat for a bit talking and laughing about their adventures together. Their battles. Then there was silence for a moment. Everything was quiet. Sherlock was getting hotter and hotter, but he ignored it. Tears streamed down both of their faces. "Why did you choose me?" John asked. Sherlock didn't reply for a moment. He choked a little, took a breath, and then answered.

"You're not an idiot." they both smiled. "You see what other people can't. You are the heart to my head. You gave my life balance. You gave it happiness. You helped me." John didn't say a word. The answer he'd expected was nothing compared to that. He'd never expect Sherlock to confess anything like that. He'd waited so long to hear Sherlock say something along those lines, he never thought it was actually going to happen. He assumed they were going to grow old together. "I will miss you, John."

"Why?"

"You have to go. You need to live your life."

"Never. We are a team, Sherlock, you and I. I'm hopeless without you. I'm not going anywhere."

"But, John-"

"I'm not leaving! I can't go back to my life before we met, Sherlock. Mourning those who died in the war. I'm not going back. I'm staying here, Sherlock. I'm staying with you." Sherlock smiled a little.

After a small silence, Sherlock spoke softly. "I am honored to be the best friend of you, John Watson." John smiled. He whispered back.

"And I of you." his smile faded as he spoke. Sherlock never heard what he had said.

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The building eventually blew. Lestrade eventually got there, but was too late. Sherlock was dead. John too.

Their funerals were together, not many attended. A few clients went, Sherlock's parents, Mycroft, Harry, Lestrade, and Mike. It was very quiet, except from the sobs heard from Harry and Sherlock's parents. Lestrade didn't cry, he was incredibly upset by the news and it troubled him a lot, but he managed to keep himself calm. He gave a speech at their funerals, mainly about the cases they had done.

Afterwards, everything was silent. The birds didn't chirp. The wind didn't howl. The branches and leaves of trees didn't rustle. There was a deafening silence just surrounding the two graves that sat side by side. They were silent in their last moments. None of them had to say a word to each other because they knew exactly what the other would say. Neither of them would leave the other. They lived a team, they would die a team. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. The pair that were willing to follow the other into fire.

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_**Please can you remember to review once you've finished :)**_


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